


Puppies!

by SnarkyBadger



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Adopting a dog, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Mass Effect AU, Mentions of alcohol, Mentions of serious injuries, No Shepard without Vakarian, Post Destroy Ending, Puppies, Shepard (Mass Effect) has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shepard lives, Though I don't really go into it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 11:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnarkyBadger/pseuds/SnarkyBadger
Summary: Tumblr Prompt - Hey Snarky. I know you're busy unpacking and your askbox is technically closed. But I'm in dire need of fluff. I watched Keeanu Reeves get drunk, answer questions, and play with puppies and awwwwed the entire time. Could Shepard do this to Garrus? Garrus playing with many many puppies while buzzed.This is after the Destroy Ending, Shepard’s alive and mostly well, if still recovering. It… didn’t turn out like what I originally came up with - it mutated while I was writing. But the mental images are fun! XD





	Puppies!

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Shepard sighed and checked her Omni for the fifth time in as many minutes before shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her left leg - or rather, the stump of her leg just below her knee - ached. The prosthetic, while state of the art, was still new enough that it caused her some pain from time to time. And standing there, waiting for a late Garrus, wasn’t helping.

Already, the muscles in her shoulders and neck were tightening, her heartbeat rising a little. Things since the Citadel - where she’d been buried under tons of rubble - had been a little touch and go. It had taken her months to recover after being found half-alive amongst the carnage, her body broken, spirit exhausted, but not extinguished.

Cerberus’ tech in her body had saved her, kept her alive though trauma that would have killed anyone else. More cybernetics had been added to her form as she’d recovered, pins and plates reconstructing her shattered bones enough for them to heal.

She’d never had made it though the painful rehab had it not been for Garrus. Even after the destruction of the Relay, he’d never given up hope of finding her again. Had practically reconstructed the downed Normandy himself in a near-frightening, tunnel-visioned, desperation to make his way back to her. It awed and shocked and stunned her, every time she thought about it.

Another glance at her Omni Tool made her left eyebrow twitch. She loved Garrus, but if he didn’t show up in the next five minutes, she might strangle him.

She hated being late.

Sighing, she leaned heavily on the cane that had been provided to her while she got used to her new leg, index finger tapping against the handle as her keen gaze cut across her surroundings. 

You could take the soldier out of the battlefield, but the instinct to identify potential threats, scope out exits and cover for any firefights wasn’t something that just went away - no matter how much of the Citadel had crashed down onto her.

Finally, _finally_ , she spotted a familiar form amongst the crowd, her gaze locking onto the scarred Turian in civilian clothing that was sauntering towards her.

Oh, lords, he was strutting a little too.

Someone save her, Garrus was drunk. 

It wasn’t readily apparent to anyone who didn’t know him, but his gait, the slight tilt to his head, the smirk of his good mandible - dammit, he’d gone drinking without her!

She was somewhere between irritated and mildly jealous when he reached her, the low rumble of his subvocals lightly slurred, blue eyes a little glazed. 

“I know, I know. I’m late–”

Shepard huffed, blowing a strand of her overlong red hair out of her eyes. “You went drinking without me.”

Garrus blinked, then spent a moment looking anywhere but at her, raising his right hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Ah. Uh, a little? Chellick - you remember him right? He’s… well, I suppose you can say he’s getting married. Found his bondmate and everything! Never thought he had it in him. Joker used to think _I_ had a stick up my ass but _Chellick_ –” He glanced at her, saw the look on her face, and coughed a little. “Right. Well, I went to say congratulations and then some of the old squad wanted to treat him to a drink and… yeah. But I’m alright, really! We can go see the large hamsters now.”

It took an inordinate amount of willpower not to facepalm. “Puppies. _Dogs._ Not hamsters, Garrus.”

“Wrex said they’re furry, wimpy, varren.”

“Wrex would.” Even though she was still a little miffed, Shepard accepted the arm that Garrus held out to her, linking her arm through his. He easily shifted his stance to help support her, which was good, because standing around waiting for him had caused the muscles in her bad leg to cramp a little. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re a friendly drunk.”

“I am not _drunk_ ,” Garrus huffed, trying for affronted and failing, settling for a grumbling growl of his subvocals. “I’m not as think as you drunk I am. Wait. Wait, that didn’t sound right.“

She heaved a sigh that she usually only made when dealing with the Council. “Just… let me do the talking.”

It was, as it turned out, good that she did the talking. Whatever the hell that Garrus had imbibed must have been strong, because even his ability to ‘fake’ sober seemed to be cracking at the edges. It didn’t help that a drunk Garrus was also a slightly handsy Garrus. Normally she’d be all for her Turian purring things to her while nipping at the shell of her ear, but this was just not the time.

The quest to adopt a dog - by the suggestion of both her therapist and rehab specialist - was off to a rocky start. Personally, Shepard did miss having a pet, and she’d always loved dogs, but she’d never thought she’d be interviewing to adopt one with a touchy feely Turian attached to her hip.

Still, they managed to get to the Adoption Centre with little trouble - minus a couple of elbows to Garrus’ ribs to get his wandering hands off her ass.

She planted him in the nearest chair, then hobbled over to reception. The Asari there didn’t pay her much mind until the receptionist looked up, and Shepard had a grand view of the usual shock and awe that most people got on their faces when they recognized her.

Ugh. She doubted she’d ever get used to receiving that look.

Still, it did expedite things. She and Garrus were quickly led to a small private room to wait while some of the staff went to fetch a few of the dogs that the resident behaviorist thought would be a good match for them.

Garrus was weaving a little in his chair while Shepard filled out a few necessary forms on her Omni - did she have a veterinarian picked out, did she have previous experience raising dogs, etc, etc, etc. Spirits, some of the questions  were more in-depth than some of her Spectre applications.

Finally, she send the forms off with a soft chime of her Omni tool, then poked Garrus with her cane when he shuffled his chair closer to hers and leaned in to rest his chin on the top of her head. “If I sit on the floor, I’ll need your help to get back up again.”

“I can do that,” he rumbled, the vibrations of his voice echoing into her, the familiar sensation making her smile despite herself. Garrus’ right arm slid around her waist, tucking her close, and Shepard automatically leaned into him, letting his presence ease her nerves and calm her.

She was just relocating his hand from her ass back to a safer spot on her hip when the Asari came back in carrying a large basket. The sounds of whimpers and soft barks perked Shepard’s interest, and she carefully eased herself down off her chair to the floor, grimacing a bit when her left hip twinged.

Garrus landed next to her with a graceless thump, his gaze locked on the basket, the curious subvocal rumble that left him vibrating her bones. Who knew that whimpering puppies sounded like to a Turian?

“So, I thought I’d start with some puppies. These are a mix of German Shepard and Labrador Retriever. Both breeds are known to be very affectionate, intelligent and obedient with the proper training, which I doubt would be an issue for you two.”

“How old are they?” Shepard asked as the Asari - her name tag read Jaelta - knelt and set the basket down. Six rolly polly puppies instantly scrambled to climb over the edge, bright eyes and perked ears obviously taking in everything around them.

“These are six and a half weeks old. We’ll keep them for another two weeks just so they finish weaning and grow a little more. So if you decide to adopt one of these little ones, you’ll have time to accessorize your home.”

The sextant of puppies - one of whom decided to front flip it’s way out of the basket and land on it’s head with a yelp - instantly swarmed her, and Shepard couldn’t stop the laugh that left her as they climbed over her legs and into her lap, wriggling and yipping for attention. She pet as many as she could manage, feeling some painlessly knaw at her fingers while others crawled high to lick at her chin.

“I still say they look like large hamsters,” Garrus quipped, and Shepard rolled her eyes at him as she scooped up a puppy and then deposited it in the Turian’s lap. 

He reared back a bit like she’d thrown a live grenade onto him, mandibles clamping tight to his face in apprehension. The puppy sniffed at him, probably the first Turian it had ever met, little tail waggling it’s entire little body. It’s final happy bark seemed to be an invitation for the rest of the pack, because Shepard found herself abandoned as they others piled themselves onto an unsuspecting Garrus.

“Uh, Shep– What do I-? Ow! Hey! Don’t chew that!” He reached down to disengage a puppy from his left spur, blinking into brown doggy eyes as he picked up the pup to stare at it. The puppy wriggled happily in his grasp, barking, little paws churning the air as it tried to get closer. 

The biggest of the bunch gave up trying to climb him, and merely launched itself into the Turian’s stomach. Garrus’ eyes widened as he went down with a started ‘oof’, landing on his back and warbling in shock when the other dogs swarmed him.

Puppies: 1. Garrus: 0.

Grinning, Shepard took a quick picture with her Omni Tool. The universe’s King of Bottle Shooters and Reaper Advisor to the Primarch, taken out by a pack of puppies. No one would ever believe it.

“I think we’ll take that one,” she grinned to Jaelta, nodding at the puppy who had headbutted the Turian in the gut and was now perched on the edge of Garrus’ cowl, licking at his mandibles, despite the sniper’s attempts to twist away from excited, wriggling, happy, puppy kisses.

Garrus flailed, trying to be gentle as he pushed one puppy away just for two more to wriggle into the firsts’ spot. There was one attached to his left spur again, hanging on with determination while the Turian’s legs spasmed on the floor. Another was chewing a hole through his glove, using his tough plates to teethe on. “Shepard, help, Sniper down! Ack! Pfft! Ew! It’s tongue was in my mouth! Ah! They’re so _fuzzy!_ Geditoff–!” Her Omni Tool glitched at what followed.

She’d have to send a copy of the image to Tali or the Quarian would never forgive her.

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End file.
